To Kill a Prussian
by MaydoMia
Summary: Feli Vargas and his brother Lovi live in a small town where the people are laid back, and any real action is seldom. When their father is called to defend a Prussian over a rape charge, their innocent world gets a reality check. Based on Haper Lee's novel.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- **I really hate to say this, but, I have no life XD I was literally looking back and forth from my To Kill a Mockingbird book to this typing it. I got a sudden idea...And this was born ._. Yeah, this is almost exactly like the book. I don't recommend using this for a test though :P I did change some things up. But yeah, I don't have a life right now. And yes, I am going to continue this off. Because I'm that lame XD But hey! Now you can enjoy this book with your favorite Hetalia characters! :D They're a bit OOC and the ages are gonna be off, but you know, I had to make this work. I guess you can say it's an AU almost. Oh, and for those characters I can't match up with Hetalia characters, I might just use their original names. Hence, this is a crossover.

**Disclaimer- To Kill a Mockingbird belongs to Harper Lee. I also do not own Hetalia. **

Below, you can find the cast of the characters used. I have a pretty good reason why I picked these characters, but if you wanna argue with me, go ahead.

Enjoy~!

* * *

**To Kill a Prussian**

**Cast**

**Jean Louise "Scout" Finch- **Feliciano "Feli" Vargas

**Jeremy Atticus "Jem" Finch-** Lovino "Lovi" Vargas

**Atticus Finch-** Rome Vargas

**Charles Baker "Dill" Harris- **Antonio Fernandez "Toni" Carriedo

**Calpurnia**- Elizabeta Héderváry

**Miss Maudie Atkinson**- Kiku Honda

**Arthur "Boo" Radley**- Matthew "Mattie" Williams

**Nathan Radley-** Alfred F. Jones

**Judge John Taylor-** Ludwig Beilschmidt

**Mr. Heck Tate**- Ivan Braginski

**Robert E. "Bob" Ewell-** Vash Zwingli

**Mayella Violet Ewell- ** Lili Zwingli

**Tom Robinson-** Gilbert Beilschmidt

**Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose- **Arthur Kirkland

**Mr. Horace Gilmer- **Roderich Edelstein

**Link Deas- **Francis Bonneyfoy

**Lula- **Viktor Drakovitch

**Ms. Stephanie Crawford**- Feliks Łukasiewicz

**Mr. Braxton Bragg Underwood-** Sadiq Adnan

**Dolphus Raymond-** Matthias Køhler (Denmark)

**Miss Caroline Fisher**- Bella (Belgium) Fisher

* * *

_"I don't know, but they did it. They've done it before, and they did it tonight, and they'll do it again and when they do it-seems only children weep."_

_- Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird_

* * *

_**Chapter 1**_

_"Maycomb was an old town, but it was at tired old town when I first knew it."_

_- __Jean Louise "Scout" Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird_

When he was about to turn thirteen, my older brother Lovi got his leg fractured. When his injury healed, Lovi's fears of not being able to play soccer with the other boys anymore were soothed, and he didn't care about his injury as much anymore. Of course, the fracture left Lovi unable to run as hard as he used to , but he could of cared less. As long as he was able to dribble and fake, Lovi would be just fine.

When enough time had gone by to allow us to reminisce on the incident, Lovi and I discussed what happened that led to it all. I stated that the Zwinglis started it all, but Lovi, who was four years older the me, said it started way before that. He said it started when Toni come to us during the summer, when he gave us the idea of making Matthew Williams come out.

…

Forks was an old town, too old I'd say. The grass was alway too long, and during steamy hot days, the buildings looked like they were sagging. Always confused with the rainy Forks in Washington, Forks, Alabama was missing that rainy weather. Always hot, mostly dry, it could pass for a desert if it wasn't for those scattered thunderstorms that made the streets turn into goo and the air into a humid mess. Freshly stiffened collars on men's shirts would wilt by nine in the morning, and frequent showers among the ladies were quite common. It seemed that no matter what they did, they couldn't escape the hot air of Forks. Whether it was the weather or the barrenness of the town, the people were very slow moving. They went on with their day, going out to the shops there, lounging around in cafes over here. The days seemed to drag on longer than 24 hours at times. There wasn't a hurry for anything. There wasn't even anything in the county for anyone to do. That's probably why most of us moved so slow; we wouldn't get bored too quickly.

The four of us lived on the main residential street in town- Rome, Lovi, Elizabeta our cook and caretaker, and me, Feli.

Lovi and I loved Rome to pieces; we couldn't ask for anything more. He played with us, read to us when he could, and treated us right. Elizabeta was a different story. She was strict one minutes, and a complete pushover another minute. I didn't understand how a lady like her could be so mean at times. She was always ordering Lovi around and having arguments with him. She adored me ever since I could remember, but she wasn't afraid to lash out at me if I stuck one toe out of line. Lovi and Elizabeta never really got along though. I think the only peaceful time I can remember was when Lovi was eating Elizabeta's food without complaining about lack of salt or something picky like that. Lovi said they were on equal terms when he was a baby, but when he learned how to talk, things went downhill.

Our mother died when I was really little, I think around the age of two. I never felt her absence, but Lovi sure did. Rome met her when he was first elected to the state legislature, and the two hit it off even though Rome was starting to get pretty old. They got married and had Lovi. Four years later, I was brought into the world. Unfortunately, two years after I was born, Mama died from a heart attack. The doctors said it ran in her family. I think it really crushed Lovi when she died. He can be found moping by himself sometimes. I just respect his privacy and leave him alone on those days.

A few years later, when I was six and Lovi was ten, Elizabeta had us stay in our "summertime boundaries", or within calling distance of her. (I don't now why our boundaries weren't further out though. I know Elizabeta can scream louder than what she normally does…) Our boundaries were between Mr. Arthur Kirkland's house two doors ahead of us, and Matthew Williams' place three doors behind us. Lovi always tried to coax me into breaking them, but I always chickened out. Matthew William's place scared me out of my wits. Mr. Kirkland was just hell.

During that summer, Toni came to us.

Early one morning, Lovi and I were starting our day when we heard something next door. We ran over to the fence and peeked over. Personally, I was hoping it was another kitten, but I was surprised by an unexpected guest. A small boy was standing on the other side of the fence. Lovi and I stared him down until he spoke.

"Hey." he greeted.

"Hey yourself." Lovi shot back.

"I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. I know Spanish and I can read." he smiled.

"So?" He shrugged. "I thought I'd let you guys know. If you want me to read something to you guys, I can do it. If you need something in Spanish, I can do that too." Lovi snickered.

"How old are you? Four?" he teased. "Seven actually." he corrected. Lovi blew a long whistle. "Gee, that makes sense." He motioned toward me. "Feli over here always had his nose stuck in a book. Never stopped reading ever since he was born. He hasn't even started school yet. Dang, you're puny for a seven year old." Toni chuckled. "Look at yourself. Aunty told me that you're about ten. I thought you looked like an eight year old when I first saw you."

"Hush your mouth." Lovi snapped. "Why don't you come over here and say it to my face, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo? Gawd, what a name." Lovi complained. "Not much longer than yours. Aunty says your name's Lovino Romano Vargas." Lovi scowled. "At least I'm big enough to fit my name. You're name is probably longer than you are. Probably two times longer." Lovi argued.

"People call me Toni though." He started to climb over the fence, his steps wobbly. "Psh, you can't even climb. Say, where you from, Toni?"

Toni said he was from Mississippi and was spending every summer with his aunt in Forks from now on. "Guess your folks don't want you." Lovi commented. Toni didn't hear the remark, and went on about how his family was from Forks originally, but his mom came up to Mississippi to work for a photographer. She made some money after entering his picture into some "Beautiful Child" contest and gave Toni the money. He said he went to the picture shows about twenty times with that money.

"Don't got much to do around here." I told him. "Lovi and I usually play around with the soccer ball. We go down to the courthouse sometimes to watch the picture shows there, but they aren't any good. You've seen anything good?"

Toni excitedly summarized a few of the shows he'd seen. As he talked, I noticed that even though Lovi was older than him, Toni was a good five inches or so taller. I didn't think he was seven for a minute. As he talked, Toni's green eyes lit up and sparkled every time he remembered something. His hair was oddly curly, but that didn't matter. After he wrapped up on his long story, I felt like he forgot something. Lovi thought so too. "Hey Toni, what about your dad? What's he like?" he asked.

"I don't got one." Toni replied.

"Is he dead?" I asked, hoping he wasn't.

"No. I just don't got one." he replied, his cheeks turning pink. Lovi decided to change the subject. "Hey, you want play some ball with us?" he asked, kicking the soccer ball out of the hiding spot. Toni's eyes lit up again. "Sure!"

That was a sign that Lovi approved of Toni. We had found ourselves a new friend. Every day after that, Toni would hop over the fence and join me and Lovi in a game of soccer, or a creative game that Lovi was in charge of coming up with. After a while though, it seemed as though all the new things Lovi was coming up with were just tweaked repetition of other games. We had ran out of ideas. That's when Toni suggested the idea of making Matthew Williams come out.

Somehow, that house simply fascinated Toni. Despite our warnings about the dangers of that house, it just kept on attracting him like how a porch light attracts bugs. Even though Toni was interested in the house, he never went past the light pole on the corner, the light pole that was a short distance from the William's gate. Toni would just stand there, swing around the pole, and stare at the house, thinking about what kind of people could be inside.

The Williams Place was a low house, the white paint peeling from the sides. The roof was comprised of rain-rotted shingles that dropped over the veranda. Oak trees shaded the area, and weeds and johnson grass grew all over the front yard. Surrounding the house was the remains of a fence with a poor paint job, the entire fence leaning over.

Inside this house lived a man that could pass for a ghost. People say he really lives in there, but Lovi and I have never seen him. People say that he comes out at night when everyone was asleep and when the moon was down to peek into your window. They say that the dogs would howl and whine for no reason every time he passes by; any small stealthy crime and unexplained events were his workings. Once, the town was terrorized with disappearing pets and mutilated animals. Even though the culprit was just another psycho in Forks, everyone still thought it was the Williams. Nobody dared walked directly in front of the William place at night; they would cut across the street and continue walking like nothing ever happened. The schoolyard was close by the Williams' backyard; the pecan tree in their yard would drop its fruit into the yard. The nuts would always lay untouched though. People said they would kill you. Anything lost in the Williams' hard was gone forever too, since nobody was brave enough toe step foot into their yard.

The story of the Williams goes something like this. The Williams were a family that mostly kept to themselves, something a bit taboo in the city of Forks. They didn't go to church like the most of us, but rather worshipped at home. Mrs. Williams never really talked to the neighboring ladies much, if ever, and never joined in their mid- morning coffee gossip sessions. Mr. Williams routinely walked to town every morning at eleven- thirty and came back with a bag full of groceries. Lovi always said that Mr. Williams "bought cotton" which basically meant that he didn't do anything. This didn't stop him and his wife from staying in that house though. The family have been living in that house for as long as anyone can remember. It was just Mr. and Mrs. Williams and their two sons.

The shutters were always closed in that house every Sundays, another thing that was found odd in Forks. Windows usually were never closed unless someone was sick or the weather was cold. Sunday was always the day that people visited each other. Ladies dolled themselves up and wore corsets while men worse coats and children wore shoes. Nobody ever thought about climbing up the William's front porch and knocking on the door just to say "Hey" though.

The story continues saying that the younger William boy was acquainted with some of the juvenile delinquents of the town and formed something that resembled a gang. The gang didn't really do much but hang around at the barbershop, ride the bus to the picture shows, and went to dances at the gambling hall. Everyone in town knew what Matthew Williams was doing, but nobody had the nerve to tell Mr. Williams what his boy was up to.

One night, the group of boys got themselves into a heap of trouble when they were driving around town in a borrowed car. The town's beadle, Mr. Conner tried to arrest them, but the boys resisted arrest and locked him up in the courthouse outhouse. After he was released, Mr. Conner made sure they would pay for their crimes. And sure enough, they did. Charged with disorderly conduct, disturbing the peace, assault and battery, and the use of foul language in front of a lady, the judge decided to send them all off to the state's industrial school. Mr. Williams thought different, and begged the judge to release his son, promising that if he did, Matthew would behave. The judge agreed, and Matthew Williams was not seen again for fifteen years. The doors of the Williams place were now closed on weekdays as well as Sundays.

Lovi and I heard that Matthew Williams was actually seen one day, but when we asked Rome about it, he just shook his head and told us to run off and play and to just to mind our own business. So, we decided to ask Mr. Feliks Lukasiewicz instead. He said he knew the entire thing. According to him, Mattie was sitting in the living room cutting up things from the newspaper to glue into his scrapbook when his father entered the room. When Mr. Williams passed, Mattie stabbed Mr. Williams right in the leg, pulled the scissors out,wiped them on his pants, and continued cutting the paper. Mrs. Williams was running out of the house screaming that Mattie was killing them all, but when the sherif arrived, Mattie was just sitting there cutting the paper like before. He was thirty- three at that time.

They wanted to send Mattie to an asylum, but Mr. Williams refused. He said Mattie was just stressed out, not crazy. Mr. Williams agreed it would be okay to shut Mattie up somewhere, but Mattie wasn't a criminal The sheriff didn't have the heart to lock up Mattie into a jail cell full of real criminals, so he just settled with the courthouse basement. He soon returned to his home though. The town council said that Mattie would die of mold from the damp if he wasn't out of the basement soon.

Everything was back to normal. Mrs. Williams would come outside to water her flowers, and Mr. Williams would go to town to buy groceries. Every time Lovi and I said "Good morning, sir" to him though, he would only cough in reply. The time passed, and before we knew it,Mr. Williams would be making his last joinery past our house.

Many people thought Mattie would come out of the house after his father died, but they had another thing coming. Mattie's brother Alfred came home and moved in. Lovi said Mr. Alfred "bought cotton" too. He simply took Mr. Williams' place and life went on like usual. The only difference was that Mr. Alfred was younger, and that he would actually talk to us, unlike his father.

The more we told Toni about the Williams Place, the more he wanted to know. He would hug that light pole longer and stare at that old house longer. "Wonder what he does in there." Toni sighed. "People say he comes out at night. Mr. Feliks Lukasiewicz said that he woke up one night and found Mattie staring at him through his window. Says it's like looking at a skull. Haven't you seen him before? That's why your Aunty locks up the house so tight. I've seen his tracks in our yard a bunch of times before. Even heard him scratching at the back screen once. He was gone when Rome came to check though."

"Wonder what he looks like?" Toni went on. Lovi thought about it for a moment, and then said a reasonable description: Mattie was about five- foot eight and ate raw squirrels and any cats that he could catch (I nearly wanted to cry when I heard this. Poor kittens!). He said that's why his hands were always bloodstained- if you ate and animal raw, you could never get the blood off. There was a long jagged scar running down his face, and his teeth would be yellow. His eyes would pop out, and he would drool. I kind of thought Lovi as making this up, but he hasn't been wrong before…Or I don't think he has…

"Doesn't he have a polar bear too, Lovi?" I asked him. "Oh yeah. This white polar bear is always hanging around him. People say it's a real one, but I say it's stuffed. I mean, what kind of bear can live out here? The dogs can't even stand the heat."

Toni stared at the house in amazement again. "Let's try to make him come out." he suggested. "I'd like to see what he looks like."

"Sure. If you want to get yourself killed, just go up there and knock on the front door." Lovi said.

"Aw, come on, Lovi. I bet you can't even make it past the front gate." Toni dared. Lovi stood up straight. "What did you say?" Toni smirked. "I bet you all of my trading cards if you can make it past the Williams Place front gate." In his entire life, Lovi has never declined a bet.

Lovi thought about it for three days. I think his pride was too big. He must of loved honor more than his own head because Toni wore him down real easily. "You're too scared." he taunted the first day. Lovi hissed back with a "Not scared. Just respectful." The second day, Toni kept on pushing him. "I bet you're too scared to even put your toe in the front yard." Lovi argued back with, "I pass by the Williams Place every school day."

"Yeah, but you're always running." I grinned. "Hush Feli, he don't need to know that!"

Toni definitely got him the third day though. "Boy, the folks in Forks sure are some scaredy cats. The people in Mississippi definitely aren't as afraid as the folks in Forks." Lovi fumed and started dragging me and Toni to the corner where the light pole was. Lovi stopped and leaned on the poll, examining the front gate that was swinging off its hinges.

"I hope you've got it through your head that he'll kill each and every one of us, Toni Carriedo." said Lovi. "Don't blame me when he gouges your eyes out. You're the one who started it, remember." Lovi added.

"You're still scared." Toni dared to push. Lovi made sure that Toni knew once and for all that he wasn't scared of anything. "I just can't think of a way to make him come out without him getting us. Besides, I have a little brother to look out for."

When Lovi said that, I knew he was scared. Lovi "had his little brother to think of" when I dared him to jump off the roof of the house. "If I got killed, what would become of you?" he asked. He still jumped though, and he landed unharmed.

"You gonna run out on a dare?" Toni asked. "If you are, then-"

"Toni, you need to think about these things." Lovi interrupted. "Lemme think for a minute…It's kind of like making a turtle come out." Lovi said.

"How's that?" Toni asked, suddenly interested about Lovi's turtle analogy.

"You strike a match under him."

"Lovi, if you're gonna set the Williams Place on fire, I'm telling Rome."

"Shut up, Feli. I didn't say I was actually gonna do it."

"Striking a match under a turtle is hateful, Lovi!" Toni cried out.

"It's not hateful. It just persuades him. It's not like you chunk him in the fire." Lovi said, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know it won't hurt him?"

"Turtle can't feel stupid!" Lovi growled.

"They can to feel, Lovi! Were you ever a turtle? Huh? Were you?"

"For crying out loud, Toni! Lemme think! Hmm…I reckon we can rock him…"

Lovi stood thinking too long. Toni got impatient and decided to compromise with him. "I'll still give you my trading cards if you just go up there and touch the house." Lovi straighten up. "Touch the house? Is that all?" Toni nodded.

"You sure that's all? I don't want you hollering something different the minute I get back."

"Yeah, that's all. He'll probably come after you when he sees you in his yard. Then Feli and me will jump him and hold him down 'til we can tell him we won't hurt him." Lovi and I raised an eyebrow at him, but soon shook it off. The three of us crossed the street and ran in front of the Williams house and stopped at the front gate.

"Go on. Me and Feli will be right behind you."

"I'm going, I'm going. Don't rush me."

Lovi walked up to the house, and stopped, studying the house like he was thinking how he was going to do this.

"You're such a chicken Lovi!" I sneered, Toni's teasing influencing me.

That's when Lovi shoved the gate open and ran up to the side of the house, slapped it, and ran back to us, not even looking back to see if Mattie Williams was behind him or not. Toni and I followed him. We didn't stop running until we were safely on our front porch, panting. We all looked back at the house.

The Williams house was still the same, peeling paint and all. As we stared at the house though, we noticed a shutter move. _Flick_. A tiny, almost invisible movement, and the house was still.

* * *

**A/N-** Ta Da! Yeah, this is ALMOST exactly like Chapter 1 of To Kill a Mockingbird. I did cut some things out though and added in some things. Like I said, I have no life :P Anywho, I'm gonna go work on OTR or the second chapter of this now. Bai!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- **It's been a while, but I thought it was time I updated this. It's funny how so many you you guys are reading this book and actually found this interesting. I guess it really does make it easier to read when you have your favorite characters huh? :P Welp, here's the next chapter!

**Disclaimer- ****To Kill a Mockingbird belongs to Harper Lee. I also do not own Hetalia.**

* * *

_**Chapter 2**_

"_We'll do like we always do at home, but you'll see—school's different." _

_- __Jeremy Atticus "Jem" Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird_

Toni left us early in September to return to Mississippi. We saw him off on the five o'clock bus and I was miserable without him until it occurred to me that I would be starting school in a week. I never looked forward more to anything in my life. Hours of wintertime had found me in the treehouse, looking over at the schoolyard, spying on multitudes of children through a two-power telescope Lovi had given me, learning their games, following Lovi's red jacket through wriggling circles of blind man's buff, secretly sharing their misfortunes and minor victories. I longed to join them.

Lovi condescended to take me to school the first day, a job usually done by one's parents, but Rome had said Lovi would be delighted to show me where my room was. I think some money changed hands in this transaction, for as we trotted around the corner past the Williams Place I heard an unfamiliar jingle in Lovi's pockets. When we slowed to a walk at the edge of the schoolyard, Lovi was careful to explain that during school hours I was not to bother him, I was not to approach him with requests to enact a chapter of Tarzan and the Ant Men, to embarrass him with references to his private life, or tag along behind him at recess and noon. I was to stick with the first grade and he would stick with the fifth. In short, I was to leave him alone.

"You mean we can't play any more?" I asked.

"We'll do like we always do at home," he said, "but you'll see—school's different."

It certainly was. Before the first morning was over, Miss Bella Fisher, our teacher, hauled me up to the front of the room and patted the palm of my hand with a ruler, then made me stand in the corner until noon.

Miss Bella was no more than twenty-one. She had bright blonde hair, high cheekbones, and wore crimson fingernail polish. She also wore high-heeled pumps and a red and white striped looked and smelled like a peppermint drop. She lived across the street one door down from us in Mister Kiku Honda's upstairs front room, and when Mister Kiku introduced us to her, Lovi was in a haze for days.

Miss Bella printed her name on the blackboard and said, "This says I am Miss Bella Fisher. I am from Belgium, from Mons." The class murmured apprehensively. No one seemed to know where that was, or why she moved out to live in a sleepy town like forks. Maybe she was going through one of those midlife crisis, but by the looks of it, she looked a bit too young for that.

Anyway, Miss Bella began the day by reading us a story about cats. The cats had long conversations with one another, they wore cunning little clothes and lived in a warm house beneath a kitchen stove. By the time Mrs. Cat called the drugstore for an order of chocolate malted mice the class was wriggling like a bucketful of catawba worms. Miss Bella seemed unaware that the ragged, denim-shirted and floursack-skirted first grade, most of whom had chopped cotton and fed hogs from the time they were able to walk, were immune to imaginative literature. Miss Caroline came to the end of the story and said, "Oh, my, wasn't that nice?"

Then she went to the blackboard and printed the alphabet in enormous square capitals, turned to the class and asked, "Does anybody know what these are?"

Everybody did; most of the first grade had failed it last year.

I suppose she chose me because she knew my name; as I read the alphabet a faint line appeared between her eyebrows, and after making me read most of My First Reader and the stock-market quotations from The Mobile Register aloud, she discovered that I was literate and looked at me with more than faint distaste. Miss Bella told me to tell my father not to teach me any more, for it would interfere with my reading.

"Teach me?" I said in surprise. "He hasn't taught me anything, Miss Caroline. Rome ain't got time to teach me anything," I added, when Miss Caroline smiled and shook her head. "Why, he's so tired at night he just sits in the living room and reads."

"If he didn't teach you, who did?" Miss Bella asked good-naturedly. "Somebody weren't born reading The Mobile Register."

"Lovi says I was. He read in a book where I was a Varias instead of a Vargas. Lovi says my name's really Feliciano Varias, that I got swapped when I was born and I'm really a-"

Miss Bella apparently thought I was lying. "Let's not let our imaginations run away with us, dear," she said. "Now you tell your father not to teach you any more. It's best to begin reading with a fresh mind. You tell him I'll take over from here and try to undo the

damage-"

"Ma'am?"

"Your father does not know how to teach. You can have a seat now."

I mumbled that I was sorry and retired meditating upon my crime. I never deliberately learned to read, but somehow I had been wallowing illicitly in the daily papers. In the long hours of church—was it then I learned? I could not remember not being able to read hymns. Now that I was compelled to think about it, reading was something that just came to me, as learning to fasten the seat of my union suit without looking around, or achieving two bows from a snarl of shoelaces. I could not remember when the lines above Atticus's moving finger separated into words, but I had stared at them all the evenings in my memory, listening to the news of the day, Bills to be enacted into laws, the diaries of Lorenzo Dow—anything Rome happened to be reading when I crawled into his lap every night. Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.

I knew I had annoyed Miss Bella, so I let well enough alone and stared out the window until recess when Lovi cut me from the covey of first-graders in the schoolyard. He asked how I was getting along. I told him.

"If I didn't have to stay I'd leave. Lovi. That damn lady says Rome's been teaching me

to read and for him to stop it-"

"Don't worry, Scout," Lovi comforted me. "Our teacher says Miss Bella's introducing a new way of teaching. She learned about it in college. It'll be in all the grades soon. You don't have to learn much out of books that way—it's like if you wanna learn about cows, you go milk one, see?"

"Yeah Lovi, but I don't wanna study cows, I-"

"Sure you do. You hafta know about cows, they're a big part of life in Forks County."

I contented myself with asking Lovi if he'd lost his mind.

"I'm just trying to tell you the new way they're teachin' the first grade, stubborn. It's the Dewey Decimal System."

Having never questioned Lovi's pronouncements, I saw no reason to begin now. The Dewey Decimal System consisted, in part, of Miss Bella waving cards at us on which were printed "the," "cat," "rat," "man," and "you." No comment seemed to be expected of us, and the class received these impressionistic revelations in silence. I was bored, so I began a letter to Dill. Miss Bella caught me writing and told me to tell my father to stop teaching me. "Besides," she said. "We don't write in the first grade, we print. You won't learn to write until you're in the third grade."

Elizabeta was to blame for this. It kept me from driving her crazy on rainy days, I guess. She would set me a writing task by scrawling the alphabet firmly across the top of a tablet, then copying out a chapter of the Bible beneath. If I reproduced her penmanship satisfactorily, she rewarded me with an open-faced sandwich of bread and butter and sugar. In Elizabeta's teaching, there was no sentimentality: I seldom pleased her and she seldom rewarded me.

"Everybody who goes home to lunch hold up your hands," said Miss Bella, breaking into my new grudge against Elizabeta.

The town children did so, and she looked us over.

"Everybody who brings his lunch put it on top of his desk."

Molasses buckets appeared from nowhere, and the ceiling danced with metallic light. Miss Bella walked up and down the rows peering and poking into lunch containers, nodding if the contents pleased her, frowning a little at others. She stopped at Walter Cunningham's desk. "Where's yours?" she asked.

Walter Cunningham's face told everybody in the first grade he had hookworms. His absence of shoes told us how he got them. People caught hookworms going barefooted in barnyards and hog wallows. If Walter had owned any shoes he would have worn them the first day of school and then discarded them until mid-winter. He did have on a clean shirt and neatly mended overalls.

"Did you forget your lunch this morning?" asked Miss Bella. Walter looked straight ahead. I saw a muscle jump in his skinny jaw.

"Did you forget it this morning?" asked Miss Bella. Walter's jaw twitched again. "Yeb'm," he finally mumbled.

Miss Bella went to her desk and opened her purse. "Here's a quarter," she said to Walter. "Go and eat downtown today. You can pay me back tomorrow."

Walter shook his head. "Nome thank you ma'am," he drawled softly. Impatience crept into Miss Bella voice: "Here Walter, come get it." Walter shook his head again. When Walter shook his head a third time someone whispered, "Go on and tell her, Feli."

I turned around and saw most of the town people and the entire bus delegation looking at me. Miss Bella and I had conferred twice already, and they were looking at me in the innocent assurance that familiarity breeds understanding.

I rose graciously on Walter's behalf: "Ah—Miss Bella?"

"What is it, Jean Louise?"

"Miss Caroline, he's a Cunningham." I sat back down.

"What, Jean Louise?"

I thought I had made things sufficiently clear. It was clear enough to the rest of us: Walter Cunningham was sitting there lying his head off. He didn't forget his lunch, he didn't have any. He had none today nor would he have any tomorrow or the next day. He had probably never seen three quarters together at the same time in his life. I tried again: "Walter's one of the Cunninghams, Miss Bella."

"I beg your pardon, Feli?"

"That's okay, ma'am, you'll get to know all the county folks after a while. The

Cunninghams never took anything they can't pay back—no church baskets and no scrip stamps. They never took anything off of anybody, they get along on what they have. They don't have much, but they get along on it."

My special knowledge of the Cunningham tribe—one branch, that is—was gainedfrom events of last winter. Walter's father was one of Rome's clients. After a dreary conversation in our living room one night about his entailment, before Mr. Cunningham left he said, "Mr. Vargas, I don't know when I'll ever be able to pay you."

"Let that be the least of your worries, Walter," Rome said.

When I asked Lovi what entailment was, and Lovi described it as a condition of having your tail in a crack, I asked Rome if Mr. Cunningham would ever pay us.

"Not in money," Rome said, "but before the year's out I'll have been paid. You watch."

We watched. One morning Lovi and I found a load of stove wood in the back yard. Later, a sack of hickory nuts appeared on the back steps. With Christmas came a crate of smilax and holly. That spring when we found a crokersack full of turnip greens, Rome said Mr. Cunningham had more than paid him.

"Why does he pay you like that?" I asked.

"Because that's the only way he can pay me. He has no money."

"Are we poor, Rome?"

Rome nodded. "We are indeed."

Lovi's nose wrinkled. "Are we as poor as the Cunninghams?"

"Not exactly. The Cunninghams are country folks, farmers, and the crash hit them hardest."

Rome said professional people were poor because the farmers were poor. As Forks County was farm country, nickels and dimes were hard to come by for doctors and dentists and lawyers. Entailment was only a part of Mr. Cunningham's vexations. The acres not entailed were mortgaged to the hilt, and the little cash he made went to interest. If he held his mouth right, Mr. Cunningham could get a WPA job, but his land would go to ruin if he left it, and he was willing to go hungry to keep his land and vote as he pleased. Mr. Cunningham, said Rome, came from a set breed of men.

As the Cunninghams had no money to pay a lawyer, they simply paid us with what they had. "Did you know," said Rome, "that Dr. Reynolds works the same way? He charges some folks a bushel of potatoes for delivery of a baby. Mister Feli, if you giveme your attention I'll tell you what entailment is. Lovi's definitions are very nearly accurate sometimes."

If I could have explained these things to Miss Bella, I would have saved myself some inconvenience and Miss Bella subsequent mortification, but it was beyond my ability to explain things as well as Rome, so I said, "You're shamin' him, Miss Bella. Walter hasn't got a quarter at home to bring you, and you can't use any stove wood."

Miss Bella stood stock still, then grabbed me by the collar and hauled me back to

her desk. "Feliciano, I've had about enough of you this morning," she said. "You're starting off on the wrong foot in every way, my dear. Hold out your hand."

I thought she was going to spit in it, which was the only reason anybody in Forks held out his hand: it was a time-honored method of sealing oral contracts. Wondering what bargain we had made, I turned to the class for an answer, but the class looked back at me in puzzlement. Miss Bella picked up her ruler, gave me half a dozen quick little pats, then told me to stand in the corner. A storm of laughter broke loose when it finally occurred to the class that Miss Bella had whipped me.

When Miss Bella threatened it with a similar fate the first grade exploded again, becoming cold sober only when the shadow of Miss Blount fell over them. Miss Blount, a native Forksian as yet uninitiated in the mysteries of the Decimal System, appeared at the door hands on hips and announced: "If I hear another sound from this room I'll burn up everybody in it. Miss Bella, the sixth grade cannot concentrate on the pyramids for all this racket!"

My sojourn in the corner was a short one. Saved by the bell, Miss Bella watched the class file out for lunch. As I was the last to leave, I saw her sink down into her chair and bury her head in her arms. Had her conduct been more friendly toward me, I would have felt sorry for her. She was a pretty little thing.

* * *

**A/N- **I apologize for any typos or weird spacings. I wanted this chapter to be out ASAP. Well, until next time! Hope you enjoyed it~! Leave a review or PM me :)


End file.
